The Party
by Azharia
Summary: Alice hates parties, mostly because her sister is an incorrigible flirt. But social courtesy requires that she attend when invited. She finds that parties are not so bad if one has someone to spend them with. Set in the old, Jane Austen-ish time period.


**The Party**

By the time they arrived at the party, it was 7:30 p.m. – not that Alice minded; it was her sister, Louisa –who was yelling at the coachman for not having driven them there quickly enough, despite his best effort to convey them to the manor with as much celerity as he could manage – who truly minded. Louisa had been ready to go, dressed in a lurid gown of bilious green, half an hour before they were meant to leave. She seemed to think that being late was an ignominy of the kind in which she would never recover, although recover she always did. As the party began at 7:00, Alice thought it appropriate to begin preparations around 6:45, ensuring that they would be properly delayed and thus lessening the time she would be forced to spend there. Of course she knew that this meant facing Louisa's wrath – and indeed Louisa had spent most of the time sputtering curses at her if she did not hurry up – but so inured was she to Louisa's outbursts that she no longer feared her displeasure.

Therefore, in an attempt to save the poor coachman, she: interrupted Louisa; told her that she was wasting time yelling at the coachman and obviating her original need for haste; watched as she halted midsentence, turned up her nose, and stomped (gracefully, of course, because a woman was always graceful in her choler) up the walkway, switching to complaining about how she was going to die of inanition if she did not eat right away; thanked the coachman, who smiled at her gratefully; and observed the front of the manor in an attempt to procrastinate her entrance as much as possible.

The manor was called Rillside Manor due to its proximity to a sweet little rivulet that ran past the left side of the main building. In front of the building were two pendent lamps that illuminated the entrance. On the right, the verdure of the new Spring foliage was very much at display in the medium-sized orchard. At the back of the building, she knew from previous visits that there was a garden large enough to get lost in; she considered ignoring the party altogether and hiding herself in the garden, but she listened to her better judgment, which was telling her that it would not only be rude to neglect the party to which she had so graciously been invited, but also uncomfortable due to her stomach that was growling quite loudly.

Now, her reluctance to attend the party was not because she was unsociable; in fact, she was quite sociable amongst her friends. It was just that none of her friends were acquainted with Mrs. Alcott – the mistress of the manor – and thus were not invited. Also, although she knew most of the people who were invited, and although they were all politeness and social courtesy, they were superficial; their conversations consisted mostly of ribaldry and gossip, which she could not stand: gossip about the weather, gossip about people who were supposedly "soon to be married" (although most was mere speculation), gossip about the moiety of a fortune recently imparted to a relation, &c., much of which was expounded upon using vulgar or indecent language.

Nevertheless, she walked up the drive and into the manor. She was greeted at the door by a servant whom she smiled kindly at and allowed to take her cloak. Then, she took a deep breath and strode into the dining room. There she was met by Mrs. Alcott.

"Oh, Alice, how nice of you to join us! You're just in time! I've just called everyone for dinner. We'll start in a few moments. There's your seat, right between Mr. Roderick and Miss Windham."

She smiled kindly at her, knowing that it was not her fault that she felt uncomfortable around her guests, said, "Thank you, Mrs. Alcott," and took her seat for dinner.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She sat in a cushioned chair against one wall of the ballroom watching her sister. She didn't particularly want to watch her, but it just so happened that Louisa was the loudest individual in the room and her attention had been drawn to her. With all the caprice of a spoiled little girl, she had jumped from her earlier anger to sweetness in an instant; her piquant sister had snuck behind a certain officer (whose name – Mr. Jonathan Bartlet – she remembered due to the thousands of times Louisa had prattled about him when they were alone), covered his eyes with her hands, and asked him to "guess who?" Now, Louisa was surrounded with officers and was making such a scene of impropriety that she could not help but make animadversions on her conduct in her head.

Suppressing the feeling of embarrassment caused by having Louisa as a sister, she eventually tuned her out by starting up a conversation with a woman sitting in a chair near her; but the woman was old and partially deaf, and she soon tired of the vapid discourse. She wished vehemently that she could be back at home, sitting in bed with a rushlight illuminating the room, reading the latest edition of the hebdomadal magazine that she had just received that morning. Finally, politely excusing herself, she at last concluded that it was time to escape to the garden.

She heard, "Oh, don't be such a coward! Come and dance with me!" as she shut the glass door, then a hush fell over the garden. Stepping out onto the grass, she took a deep breath and let relief begin to fill her. The weather was propitious, but whether it boded well for her or for someone else, she was not sure. However, she was inclined to believe the latter, and she wished that "someone else" might turn out to be her sister; considering the way Louisa was getting on with Mr. Bartlet, she dared hope (and risk sounding like one of the gossipmongers currently inside the manor enjoying the party) that maybe a wedding might be in the near future, for it would mean the removal of Louisa from their home and blessed peace at last!

She realized after a time that she had wandered quite far into the garden. She looked around and found herself in an area surrounded with rose bushes and sheltered from the view of the manor. An idea coming to her, she looked around furtively before removing her shoes and stockings and letting herself walk barefooted in the grass. The feeling was so nice that she was completely unaware that she was not alone until someone spoke.

"It is a beautiful evening for a walk in the garden, is it not?"

She whipped around to find herself looking at a man coming towards her up the path. He had, as far as she could tell in the low light, dark, wavy hair and angular features. He was dressed finely, obviously having come from the party as well. As her eyes returned to his face, she realized that he was waiting for some sort of response.

"Oh, yes it is," she said. Attempting to recover her scattered wits (and to hide her shoes and stockings behind her), she continued. "This is also a beautiful garden. I've walked it many times, but I have never come this far before."

He came to stand in front of her.

"Ah, so you've been invited to one of my mother's parties before," he said dryly.

"Yes. I admit I always prefer to spend them out of door – " She broke off as something registered in her mind. "Your mother? Mrs. Alcott is your mother?"

He smiled and bowed.

"Christopher Alcott, at your service," he said.

She had known Mrs. Alcott had a son, but she had never met him before. Alice and her sister became acquainted with her only a few years ago, and by that time Mrs. Alcott's son was living in France. Now that she thought about it, she did remember Mrs. Alcott saying something about him returning from France sometime in the near future. _Of course!_ she thought. _That was the reason for the party._ She had quite forgotten the reason for the invitation in the first place; she had, at the time, found it more important that she was going to be forced to sit through another one of Mrs. Alcott's dinner parties.

"So, the party goes on without the person in whose honor it was given?"

He grimaced; she laughed.

"Well, why are you out here?" he asked.

It was her turn to grimace, and she said simply, "My sister," for although there were other reasons, it was for this reason that she had made the final decision to come outside to the garden.

He scrutinized her for a moment.

"May I be correct in guessing that your sister is Miss Louisa?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied in an unhappy tone.

"Ah, then there is something the same about us, for she was the reason I also came here," he said.

"Oh dear." She let out a breath sharply. "It's like she is incapable of controlling herself!" she burst out. "The least she could do is show Mrs. Alcott the proper respect for having invited her to the party in the first place! But instead she cavorts around like some uncivilized, uneducated, common –" She took a shaky breath, attempting to keep her emotions under control. "I cannot even say it, for I am her sister. But she is indefatigable in her efforts to shame me and our family; and I worry about what will become of her." She looked away.

Silence reigned for a few moments before she began to feel embarrassed about her outburst.

"I'm sorry," she said looking back at him. "That was out of line. I should not speak so of my own sister."

"That's alright," he said, and smiled at her, seeming to let her know that it truly was. "I should probably clarify what I said earlier. I do not have anything particular against your sister. It is just that I do not especially prefer this sort of social gathering, and the presence of persons who are…extraordinarily enthusiastic rather makes me uncomfortable."

"Thank you," she said.

Just then was heard a distant call from the house.

"Is that Mrs. Alcott?" she inquired.

He sighed.

"Yes. I believe she is calling me back to reality," he replied.

However, he did not leave right away. Instead, he considered me with assiduity not unlike that of a scholar confronting a problem that he was unsure of how to go about solving, but was determined to solve. Finally, he spoke.

"I believe that my mother will be throwing another one of these parties quite soon. This time are invited a multitude of relations whom I will likely not even recognize. Would you do me the honor of attending? I know of another portion of this garden that you probably have never seen before – it is quite difficult to come by – and I believe you will like it," he said.

She thought about it for a moment. Then she smiled.

"I will be delighted to join you," she said.

He grinned at her jovially and responded to his mother's call by heading back towards the manor.

She stood there for a few moments more before putting on her stockings and shoes and following his example. Maybe these parties weren't so horrible after all.


End file.
